


Ready to Dance

by Rueitae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coworkers - Freeform, F/M, Flight Instructor Lance, Fluff, Love Confessions, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, cowboy lance, impromtu dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: Pidge rescues Lance from a disastrous night on the town and works up the courage to act on her heart.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29
Collections: The Conservatory Events





	Ready to Dance

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to our little server event! My partners were Fayedove (lineart) and Nessa (coloring)! Look at their outstanding [finished product](https://firstdove15.tumblr.com/tagged/i-had-fun-drawing-this-and-it-was-a-delight-to-see-the-results-for-the-coloring-and-fic-%3C333)!
> 
> Happy P.I.E. Day!

Pidge swivels her chair to face him, draping one arm over the backrest, eyebrow rising in skepticism. “Square dancing?” she asks, though she’d heard him perfectly the first time. 

Lance rolls his eyes dramatically and hops his butt up onto an empty space on a work table, finding a seat for himself between various technological knicknacks, alien and human alike. The notes for the adjustments to the Sea Vehicles are there, reminding Pidge she has a meeting with the pilots at the top of the hour. While Lance's unannounced visit is a distraction, it’s certainly a welcome one. 

“Yes, square dancing,” he says, making himself comfortable as if it were his laboratory and not hers. His casualness is a stark contrast to his immaculate officer’s uniform. “I’m bored out of my mind here, Pidge!” he exclaims, arms flailing in the air dramatically. “On the farm I’m busy from sunrise to sunset and too tired to do anything else. I actually want to enjoy the nightlife now that I'm living in a place that  _ has _ it. I’m...” he pauses, a glimpse of sadness flickering across his eyes. His shoulders slump and gaze lazily observes the tiled floor, looking very much at his wits end. “I haven’t felt like I’ve had  _ fun _ in a long time.”

Pidge chews on her lip. While  _ happy _ that Lance took up the additional flight instructor position the Galaxy Garrison created due to the influx of new cadets from across the universe,  _ happy _ that they work in the same space again after everyone went to their separate vocations, and happy to be working  _ with _ each other, spending their lunch hours together… despite all that they’d not had a chance to do anything fun  _ outside _ of work. A large part of her feels guilty, it was by her invitation he was here and they’d yet to play a single video game, especially since he seemed at the cusp of healing from heartbreak and mourning. Pidge feels very much like she should be encouraging his continued recovery with companionship.

Memory of Killbot Phantasm 23 flashed across her mind, the game she gave away because the two of them didn’t have time to play, for both the sake of the universe and the increased time Lance would soon be spending with Allura. She quickly dismissed it and the heartbreaking feeling stirring in her heart that came with it. She may not have the newest game, but she had plenty they  _ could _ play. 

Anything to make sure he could smile properly again. 

“I thought you liked salsa dancing the best?” she inquired.

“I  _ love _ salsa,” he says, throwing back his head, his nose wrinkling in a little more than mock disgust, “but Paul’s doesn’t have Salsa Tuesdays, just Square Dancing Thursdays.”

Pidge snorts, unphased by the ugliness of it in front of Lance of all people. There’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes that sucks her into their depths, almost as if he thought it was cute. 

She’d so love for that to be true, for her to be the reason he smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks suspiciously, though the teasing glint in his eyes never goes away. His posture is straighter, more engaging, and rather than a concerned frown is a wry grin. 

“You haven’t met Paul yet,” she says, matching his grin. “He’s a Voltron ultra fan. When he sees you walk in there you won’t have  _ time _ to do any dancing.”

Now’s her chance, Pidge thinks, her heart beating faster at the sudden opportunity. Invite him over for food and games, just like nights back on the Castle of Lions.  _ Put your mouth where your heart is, Holt! You want him to smile like that, then work for it! Don’t hesitate and lose your chance again! _ Disappointingly, her tongue fails her, and Lance speaks first.

“All the better!” he exclaims wickedly, elbowing the air behind him with his fisted hand in exuberance. “A little night out as a celebrity might be just what I need to get the doldrums.” Pidge’s stomach sinks at her missed chance. He perks up, a much more genuine smile on his face now. “You should come with me Pidge.”

Sucking in a breath that somehow knocks the air  _ out _ of her lungs, her eyes threaten to pop from their sockets. “What?” she squeaks. 

“Come with me! Two former Paladins are better than one, right?” he reasons. “I’ve seen the hours you work and I bet at least half the folks there will be our own coworkers. Take a break! Your mind will be fresh as laundry.”

Pidge coughs, hacking at the thought. She knows he means laundry that’s  _ done _ , but she can’t help but tease. “Laundry, really?” She hasn’t done laundry in… weeks, something she has to admit is due to plain laziness, though deserved laziness after her self imposed long work hours. Before becoming a Paladin she’d  _ never _ worked these kinds of hours (granted that’s because she was in high school at the time) but… being on the run from Zarkon and the need to stay one step ahead in fear for their lives had instilled the need to keep working until the most important projects were done.

That first year in space had been so terrifying, seven people against a universe - spanning evil empire, even more so now that she looks back on it as an adult. How they'd all managed to stay calm and level-headed enough to find allies and mount an offensive boggles her mind. Even though they are no longer in immediate danger, it seemed overworking herself was just too much of a habit.

"Y-you know what I mean!" Lance flubs hilariously. "Not  _ dirty _ laundry! I’m talking towels coming out of the dryer ten tics ago fresh."

A flashback to the days when she and Matt would nab the clean bedsheets from the laundry basket and make forts with them in the living room fondly runs across her mind. "I get the idea," she confirms with a smile. "I'm not really feeling a crowded bar tonight and you reminded me I actually  _ do _ need to do laundry.” She looks down at her faded black slacks, soiled with ship wax. “I'm pretty sure this is my last clean pair of pants."

The disappointment on his face almost makes her change her answer. "Even if you get to see me dress for the occasion?"

"What do you need to dress up for when you..." It hits Pidge like a ton of bricks. "Oh." Her heart starts to race again, thinking back to when she travelled out to the farm to personally ask if he'd help Shiro and Iverson train new pilots. Lance looked  _ good _ in flannel and work boots, she can't imagine what he'd look like when inevitably he'd do the full cowboy ensemble - button up shirt ever so snug across the chest and a big hat to tip to her in the most gentlemanly fashion.

She never entertained these thoughts about the rest of the team and this isn’t the first time she’s realized it. It hadn’t been terrible when they received their Paladin uniforms, no matter how knightly looking they all were, since Pidge still had her mindset in her disguise. It became far too apparent during their time doing the Voltron Show tour, watching him swing down the rope from the Red Lion’s mouth. Fleeting thoughts turned into daydreams after her father was safe and sound - of Lance reaching the end of that rope and tipping his hat at her, whether he wore a cowboy hat, a top hat, or a hard hat studded with jewels. She dared imagine her and Lance going on dates, simultaneously being the complete goof that she loves and the utmost gentleman she  _ knew _ was in him. 

"If you want to see, you gotta come join me tonight," Lance teases. "I'm not going to take any photos."

Pidge actually let out a single, loud 'ha' at the same time her heart twisted in agony over her personal fantasy. "Fat chance of that happening Mr. Celebrity. You won’t last five minutes." A notification pops up on the HUD of her glasses. She lets out a sigh of disappointment, work calls. "Time for the meeting. You coming?"

Lance slumps, certainly looking just as she feels now that their one on one time is at an end. "I guess I should, I have to teach it after all. I hope Chip doesn't go into too much detail this time."

~~~~~~

After the meeting, Pidge spent the rest of the work day adjusting Chip's programming so that his next technical briefing wouldn't fly over everyone's heads.

The dryer hums in the background, laden with the very last load, and Pidge pads around her apartment in pajamas, heating up some of her mother's lasagna in the microwave. Phone in her hand, she waits for the inevitable text from Lance begging for an excuse to leave Paul's. The Unilu was an Earth enthusiast, enough of one he adopted an Earth name, changed his residence to Earth, and was the biggest fan of the Paladins from Earth. The one and only time Pidge had been by his establishment, she'd nearly been hoodwinked into a part time waitress gig.

Pidge slides the door to her closet open, revealing scant few items of clothing and winces at the lack of selection to wear to the rescue. It is a sore reminder of her mother's proposition to go to the tailor and commission them for some new outfits, an offer that she's put off for months now.

She's drawn to the most colorful item still wearable, fingering the lavender chiffon over the soft silk base of the dress. The top is fashionably wrinkled, sleeveless with a choker neck. It's far more elegant than Pidge really needs or would have usually picked out for herself, but with the mall unorganized and humanity still slowly recovering from Sendak's occupation, it fit her perfectly and she had the money to spend so the store owner could have something to use to feed his family.  _ Surely the Garrison will have formal nights _ , she thought, and as a civilian employee she needed something nice and non-military.

There hadn't been an excuse to wear it yet. As it was the only clean outfit she had right now, it seemed that picking up Lance would be occasion enough. Literally picking him up, like some date. Pidge beats the thought out of her mind. Maybe someday soon, if she dares. If Lance being at the Garrison has taught her anything, it’s that she wants to have a life with him, not just around him.

As if on cue, her phone sings the familiar tune indicating that she has a text message. Pidge smiles, a humorless laugh at Lance's desperate text.

ARE YOU BUSY

TELL HIM YOU HAVE A DATE, she texts back. Immediately she regrets hitting ‘send’ because she’s horrified over the use of the word date, even in a fake context. Hurriedly, she continues, RUN FOR THE PARK. MEET YOU AT THE GAZEBO.

~~~~~

Pidge shivers, severely underestimating how quickly the air chills after sunset in the desert. Sleeveless, she warms her arms best she can while walking towards the park, her sneakers squeaking on the concrete sidewalk. The sooner she collects Lance, the sooner she gets to go somewhere warm. 

Music dulled by the walls of the nearby club fills the otherwise silent air. Lance is seated on the park bench inside the gazebo often used for city celebrations. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees and sliding the rim of a cowboy hat through his fingers. His button up shirt is gorgeously embroidered, his jeans are fitted and she wonders where he found the boots and belt with all the upheaval Earth has been through.

“Hey there, Cowboy,” she starts, earning his attention. “Looking pretty sharp.”

He gapes. “P-Pidge! What are you-” he pauses ever so briefly to do the thing, the one where his eyes scans her up and down several times before formulating a response. “Why are you wearing  _ that _ ?”

Old Pidge might have given him a hard time for that comment, but current Pidge sympathizes with what she knows was a terrible night for him, the untucked shirt and rips in his sleeves is testament enough. She also wants to get back home and get warm, and right now Lance is likely retaining all kinds of body heat after spending most of the night in an overcrowded bar and working up a dancing sweat. 

His reaction, though thoroughly typical Lance to overreact, tickles her fancy. It’s not a bad one by any means, and it gives her the confidence to carry forward. 

“You said you were dressing up for dancing, so I thought I should do the same,” she says as she takes a seat next to him. A half smile tugs up on her face, shrugging helplessly. “That, and I really meant it when I said I had to do laundry. Unless you prefer I showed up in my banana costume from last Halloween?”

Lance gapes, a weak whine coming from his mouth. “No! No, the dress is great! You look - you look amazing!” he stammers.

The blush in her cheeks heats her plenty for now, a tingle of hope running through her toes. “Thanks, Lance, you’re a proper gentleman. I’m glad I picked the right outfit,” she teases.

He chuckles, his face relaxing. “You were right about Paul too. He tried to get me to sign a contract to work for him. Not that I’d mind being a bartender - be kinda fun probably - but I like my current job too much,” he says looking right at her. “Better coworkers for one.”

Pidge chuckles, a wicked grin on her face as she leans in towards him, her heart aflutter at the (probably) innocent comment. “You haven’t lived until he’s tried to lock you in the basement to sign autographs.”

It's absurd the casual way they talk about nearly getting kidnapped, neither she nor Lance looking or feeling all that concerned. Peace has made them soft, and Pidge is thankful for it. Lance’s lip wobbles, and it's apparent he’s thinking the same. His laughter joins with hers, intertwining threads of joy that knot together in contented bliss. 

“This is ridiculous. You’ve got to be freezing,” Lance wheezes, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

“My car is just around the corner,” she offers, clearing her own eyes. “It’s no horse and it's well past sunset, but it will carry us to video games and junk food.” She extends a hand and confidence fills her. “If you want to, that is.”

Her heart soars when he smiles wide and takes her hand, standing and bringing her up with him. “Nothing would make me happier than to destroy you in Killbot Melee.”

“Hold your horses, Cowboy,” Pidge warns, sticking a finger into his chest. “You’re out of practice.”

“A sharpshooter never loses his groove,” he fires back in an affronted manner. Sporting the confident and flirty grin he’s been missing of late, he begins to sway to the faint sound of dance music from the nearby club. “I put in a lot more hours of Killbot Phantasm than you did.”

“That was back at the Castle,” Pidge retorts quickly, the delicious taste of teasing Lance invigorating her as she sways back and forth with him. Instinctually she places a hand at the small of his back. “While you were working on the farm, I was completing the story mode.”

Lance gasps in mock indignation as he takes her hand in his and places his other at her side. “You could have mentioned that when you came to visit, I’d have said yes quicker!”

An unsettling feeling rests in her stomach, her face falling. “You’d have come to the Garrison sooner if I told you I was playing video games?” she asks tentatively.

His mouth hangs open, briefly looking away as his cheeks color. “Then I’d have known we could play together. I, um, thought you were too busy with the Defenders to have fun.”

“I’m trying,” she admits. A breeze rushes through the gazebo and her body moves on its own towards the heat Lance emits. “We’re all safe now - relatively,” she amends quickly. “I know there could always be something bigger and badder out there so I’m trying to keep everyone prepared but I do give myself evenings off like everyone else. I’d go mad otherwise.” Confidence rises and she smiles, looking right into his eyes. Her gaze ensnares him, and he turns his face to her. “I know things will be a lot easier to relax now that I’ve got my gaming buddy back.”

“Pidge…” he breathes.

“I’m glad you’re here, Lance, so glad I can’t even tell you. I missed you. I miss everyone, but I especially missed you.” A deep breath. “So thank you for coming.”

Lance smiles. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, Pidge. I’m enjoying every class, every lecture, every lunch daaayayay--ay - day! Every lunch day!” he saves with a squeak to his voice. 

Pidge blushes anyway, a hope rising in her chest she hasn’t entertained seriously in years.

“Me too,” she covers for him, face burning enough to warm her numb shoulders. “So, where’d you find the outfit?”

Beaming with pride that Pidge was not expecting, his eyes sparkled. “The hat and belt are heirlooms, the boots were my sixteenth birthday gift. The farm has been in my family for generations, a lot of us did rodeo when we were younger.”

“Quiznak,” Pidge gapes, “you’re a legitimate cowboy.” 

“Your turn, what’s with the dress?” he interupts, pivoting on his heel and turning her ninety degrees, promptly morphing from a simple sway to a slow dance, their entwined hands leading them. 

“Was out with Rizavi and Ina for some fun and it fit perfect,” she shrugs. “I’m not exactly a common size so I bought it to give him some business. I figured I could use it for a formal event.”

Lance hums in approval. “We could use a fun dance or something. Like the Valentine’s Dance we had when we were cadets.”

“And that turned out well,” Pidge says with a roll of her eyes. “Hunk got sick and you tried to get  _ me _ to go with you.”

“Ha!” Lance laughs. “That’s right. You were digging your heels in so hard, making up the most ridiculous excuses…” A sober realization dawns on him when his smile turns into a thoughtful frown. “You thought I was asking you to the dance,  _ as _ a date rather than a wingman.”

“I knew you weren’t, obviously,” she says quickly, the memory an embarrassment. “But even though I was in disguise it still felt like it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, too long a moment. Her arms tingle and legs shake. The words she’s kept in her heart since that day burst out of her before she can stop them, “I would have gone as your date! If-if I wouldn’t have blown my cover.”

The music stops, replaced by the unintelligible words of the DJ. Her feet are rooted to the ground, a pregnant pause in their impromptu dance. 

“You’d have gone on a date with me… before we even found Voltron?” Lance asks, incredulous but sober. 

It’s too late for her to back out now. Everything she thought she would take to her grave comes bubbling to the surface. “You made a concentrated effort to be my friend, despite all my attempts to push you away, how badly we failed in the simulator, all while I was at my absolute worst, not knowing what happened to Dad and Matt,” she starts. The words stuck to her tongue, but as they came rushing out, it becomes easier and easier to confess exactly what she’s been feeling for so long. He deserves to know, and she deserves to tell him. Whether he feels an inkling of the same or not, if they are to continue their friendship Pidge wants to clear this out in the air, no secrets between them as friends and former-- no, still teammates. 

“And I know there wasn’t a lot to do on the Castle, but you made a choice to hang out with me in the lab and later drag me away from work to play a level or two in Killbot Phantasm. Your friendship means so much to me. A crush was probably inevitable,” she admits, ridiculously the attire she wears, as if they were on a real date, gives her the courage to say, though it does nothing to lessen her embarrassment. She turns her gaze down, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you,” she amends hastily, “everything’s still… fresh.”

“It’s okay!” Lance says quickly. Pidge sneaks a peak to see his eyes bugging out amusingly, if she had the presence of mind to enjoy the humor. His gaze flickers away for a tic too long and Pidge frets she’s ruined everything rather than continued a healing process. He takes a deep breath before saying, “I know we’re years removed from that dance,” he pauses again and Pidge isn’t sure she can take this much longer, “but… maybe I can make it up to you?” His soft hands cup her cheek, forcing her to face him. Her heart is healed when she sees that he smiles, not frowns. “Because I would really like to.” A pause, his cheeks practically glowing. “I care about you a lot, Pidge. You’re always doing something interesting and even though I never realized it then,” he gulps, “I never could take my eyes off of you.”

Pidge gulps, heart pounding in her ears, almost unbelieving that he does see romance in their future, if only a spark. “I…” she rasps, her throat suddenly dry. “I would love to accompany you to a dance.”

The music begins again from the club and Lance leads slowly, steps deliberate as he moves into a waltz. “It’s no salsa, but maybe we can work up to it,” he promises. 

“I did ballet when I was younger,” she tells him, a spring building in her own step. “That’s how I faked my way through the Voltron Show. I have moves,” she teases, leaning into their usual banter. 

He catches the double meaning, cheeks redder than Arizona dirt. Gulping, he returns her grin in kind. “I think I have years of flirting to make up for, I just hope you don’t spend a lot of time in the anti-grav chamber.”

Pidge combs her brain, but it’s stunted over Lance openly admitting to wanting to flirt with her, brows furrowed tightly. “Wha--”

In one sudden movement, Lance sways them into a dip, his face leaning precariously close to her own, that deviously handsome and sultry smile on his face, the same one she started out hating but grew to love because it was part of  _ him _ . “Because then you’ll fall for my lines every time.”

Pidge wants to scream in agony over not seeing that one coming, but to her disdain it’s worked to give him the upper hand and she’s utterly flustered. After so long of playing the cool friend, she’s reached a point of no return. She’s got to tease and get back at him a different way. Her arms flail up around his neck before she can think and his lips are  _ right there _ …

So she locks his lips with her’s, grasping the thick hairs on the back of his head and trusting him to keep them upright. Lance shifts awkwardly, but balances them both, not allowing their lips to come apart. Her heart beats quickly, overwhelmed from being in this situation she once thought could never come to be. She holds him tight, not wanting to let him go physically or emotionally. He’s the one who makes her happy regardless of what was happening around them - she’s known that since near the end of their time as cadets at the Galaxy Garrison. 

Lance supports her as she stands upright, strong hand at her back. Pulling away does nothing to douse the high she feels when he looks at her with such fondness. 

“I guess it worked?” he chuckles. 

“In moderation,” she admits. “I do love my puns.”

A mischievous glint flashes across his eyes. “How about chivalrous gestures?” Before Pidge can respond, she yelps as he lifts her off her feet and into his arms. “Allow me to carry you to your mighty steed. It’s the very least I can do since you saved me.”

“Just this once,” Pidge agrees as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I’ll allow it.”

And perhaps once more at a wedding, should it come to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/).


End file.
